A/N: Hey everyone! So it looks like this will be my last update for a bit. I'm taking off on the Camino soon and need to devote my attention to getting ready! I hope you enjoy this chapter and be assured that I will be back with the rest of the story. If you're enjoying this fanfiction, please follow the story here or follow me on Tumblr (under TheFutureUnseen) so you can get notifications when I start posting new chapters again. Thanks for all the love so far! It means the world, seriously.

CW: This chapter contains memories from Lexa's past about childhood trauma involving homophobia and brief (very brief) physical abuse. Please be aware before reading.

Chapter Eight:

Slay Your Demons

You got the heart of a phoenix
So let them see you rise
Let them know that you mean it
Let them see you rise

You feel it burn when you're knocked down
But let the fire be your crown
Come on
Go and claim your kingdom
Then enslave all your demons
Come on
I know you know where you belong
Pheonix - Olivia Holt

What was I thinking? Clarke shifted in the unfamiliar bed, one arm thrown over her face in an attempt to shield her sensitive eyes. Seriously, good job, Griffin. Hooking up with someone who just got out of a serious relationship may be your most brilliant self-sabotage yet. Her stomach rolled, but Clarke couldn't tell whether it was her unsettled mind or the lingering firewhiskey in her system that was at fault; her thoughts felt as swollen and insistent as the throbbing hangover which began to settle in. She threw a quick glance under her arm at the clock on the far wall.

"Shit," Clarke bolted upright, one hand belatedly clutching the sheet to her bare chest. "Anya, we have to get up. Now."

She gave the girl beside her a quick nudge. Anya shifted, but didn't rise. It seemed that the older girl wasn't going to drop her pretense of sleep even if they were late. Clarke's blood caught fire… and not in a good way.

Fuck, Clarke thought bitterly. Does she really think I'm that stupid? Last night Anya had practically 'passed out' after they'd had sex. But Clarke knew it was an act. She'd felt the stubborn rigidity of the body next to her like a lodestone, keeping her keenly aware throughout the night that neither one of them was getting any sleep. Fuck, Clarke thought again. She should have just snuck back to her bed, but she had been weak and hadn't wanted to make things more awkward. Damn it.

The sex had been good. It had satisfied that desperate need for intimacy which had reached its inevitable breaking point last night. But like sex with Finn, something had just been… off. As if the two of them were not tuned to the same channel. One station away. So close… but still muted by static. Clarke had stupidly thought there would be something easier, simpler, more intuitive, about being with a girl, but it was just different. And the same.

She hadn't really recognized the disjunction with Finn until afterwards because it had been so new and such a balm against the loss of her father. Just to have someone, anyone. But the more she had thought about the experience, pulled it apart piece by piece, Clarke had remembered how her mind wandered, remembered the little touches which were supposed to ignite, but only left her wanting, remembered the soul-deep chill that was only warmed for the briefest instant.

It had been so easy to blame that on him, to think that he had been the problem. But, it had been the same last night. The sex had been good, but that chill felt infinitely colder afterwards and Clarke could now only assume that the problem was her. The realization stung like the cold edge of a knife, pressing even harder between her ribs each time Anya could barely look at her.

"Anya," she nudged the girl firmly this time, thankful that her voice sounded as hard as she wanted to feel. "We're going to be late for the match if you don't get up."

The older girl groaned - forced and fake even to Clarke - and turned over. Her brown eyes found Clarke's and the younger Slytherin told herself that the weary regret she saw in them didn't matter. It didn't.

She cleared her throat, "Seriously, we have to go."

Bending to grab her fallen shirt off the floor, Clarke tugged it on in one swift motion. Her breasts strained against the material, unsupported, but she couldn't be bothered to put her bra on, not when she'd have to change in another ten minutes. She couldn't even find it anyways.

Clarke stepped out of the warm bed and slipped quickly into her jeans. She'd search for her missing underwear later. When she turned, Clarke saw that Anya had rolled over once more, her back facing the dressed girl, covers pulled to her chin, not an inch closer to leaving her bed. Clarke snapped.

"For fuck's sake, Anya, get up."

"Piss off, Griffin," the older girl muttered into her pillow. Clarke's hands fell to her hips. This is ridiculous.

"You're seriously going to miss the first game?"

"I don't feel well."

"Bullshit."

"Just leave me alone, Clarke."

Her teeth whined sharply as Clarke ground them together. This wasn't her fucking problem. Except it was, because Anya was abandoning the team. Her team. Fucking hell. Was Clarke the only person in this damn school able to make rational decision without being clouded by emotions?

She opened her mouth to strip another layer of pride off the girl in front of her, but the words froze in her throat. If Anya was abandoning the team, it was Clarke's fault, wasn't it? From what little Clarke knew of Anya, this wasn't something she did lightly or often. And Clarke had initiated everything last night. It was her fault. Her fault.

"Fine," she cast the word out like a pebble, a rock from the riverbed, the only thing she had left to offer. Stalking out of the room felt better than retreating so Clarke let her feet fall heavily as she made her way to the sixth year girl's dormitory.

Why did she bring out the worst in everyone? People seemed fucking fine until they came into contact with her. Clarke wondered if she should wear a sign around her neck: Caution! Unwanted trouble and terrible life decisions ahead. Fuck at your own risk. A humorless smile flattened her lips as she threw open the door to the dormitory.

The room buzzed with activity. Emori and Echo looked over from where they stood in front of the mirror, apparently in the process of braiding each other's hair. They were both already decked out in their flying gear.

"Where have you been?" Echo asked in a tone that was far too sharp for such an early hour.

Clarke considered hexing her silent, but instead shrugged. "Nowhere."

She stripped as if she hadn't been naked five minutes ago and pulled on her Quidditch uniform with methodical efficiency. The leather pants fit snugly around her hips, but were surprisingly supple, and the flying vest was easy enough to lace up. Clarke strapped her feet into the calf-high boots and threw on her emerald robe.

"Want me to braid your hair?" Emori offered, coming up to lean against Clarke's pristinely made bed. It was obvious she hadn't slept in it.

Clarke shrugged again which seemed to be good enough consent for Emori because the Slytherin began plaiting her hair with deft fingers.

"You okay?"

Clarke flinched. "Yeah, fine. Just hungover."

"Echo brewed some Pepper Up Potion in the bathroom. Help yourself. We need your stellar skills, Griffin." Emori patted her head to signal she was done.

A strange tightness tried to constrict her throat so Clarke just nodded a tense smile before escaping into the bathroom. The Pepper Up Potion smelled nice which was a pleasant surprise. She drank one serving… and then two more for good measure.

By the time the girls marched into the locker room twenty minutes later, Clarke felt giddy and maybe a little high. And even though the sensation made her feel slightly out of control, at least it helped her forget about the uncomfortable morning. It even kept the smile plastered to her face when Ontari asked where Anya was.

"She's not coming. Sick or something," Clarke offered casually as she pulled her broom from its soft case.

"What?!" Ari Snelle, one of the Beaters, cried out. No one looked happy. No one except Clarke because she was as peppy as Pepper Up could be. Emori gave her a funny look, but said nothing.

"It's fine," Echo barked, motioning for the group to come together. "We know how to handle this. I'm interim Captain and Riley," she addressed the scrawny boy beside Ontari, "it's your lucky day. You get to sub as Keeper. But if you fuck up, I'll skin you myself. Got it?"

The boy nodded, looking both sick and elated. Clarke snorted. She knew the feeling.

Ontari fell in step beside Clarke as the blonde headed for the pitch, "Ready to burn some Gryffindors?"

"You have no idea."

For the first time since coming to Hogwarts, Clarke didn't give a shit about the dividing House lines. She was actually glad of the rivalry. Her blood hummed as if an IV of caffeine was attached to her side and a feral smile twisted her lips as she stalked out onto the brightly lit green. Clarke felt ready to draw blood. It was what she was good at after all.

Bellamy shielded his eyes against the sun as he squinted out at the Quidditch pitch. The stands were already packed and the hum of the crowd swirled around the stadium, calming his nerves. Bellamy hated that he was nervous. For some reason, he felt as if it was his first match, when in reality he must have played at least a hundred by now. It was ridiculous, really. Still, his stomach clenched uncomfortably as he searched the opposing team's players.

It wasn't hard to find Clarke amongst the sea of green. Her platinum hair shone in the sun like the silver stripes down each Slytherin players' arm. Bellamy swallowed. She strode confidently across the field flanked by Emori and Ontari. Each stride sent her emerald robes billowing back. The movement gave Bellamy ample view of the dark leather uniform beneath. She threw her head back and her sharp laughter echoed all the way across the pitch. The sound lodged like a bullet in his chest. He was in trouble… deep, abiding trouble. The whole Gryffindor team was in trouble. Bellamy cleared his throat and shifted out of the way as some of his teammates filed out onto the field. His gaze darted back to her and found that she was looking in his direction.

"Fuck," he muttered and spun around only to find Lexa right behind him. Her green eyes traveled past him and a lazy smile crept onto her face as she found who had flustered him.

"Are you going to be able to stay focused, Blake?"

Bellamy scoffed then fell silent as he realized her question was not rhetorical. She rarely called him Blake. His thick eyebrows bunched together.

"We're just friends," he growled deeply.

"You've said that about a million times."

"Because it's true," Bellamy snapped and cringed at his defensive tone.

"Well you better not look at me like that is all I'm saying." Lexa snorted with a half-smile.

Bellamy flipped her off half-heartedly, trying to keep his eyes from sliding back to a particular blonde as he and Lexa walked onto the pitch.

Professor Nyko, Hogwarts' Flying Instructor, blew the whistle and the sound cut sharply through the hum of the stands.

Lexa veered away from the rest of the crew to shake hands with the Slytherin captain. Her pace settled into a cool predatory stalk and her chin lifted defiantly despite the dull knot which toiled in her stomach. She didn't know what she expected to find on Anya's face after their fight yesterday, any number of emotions flashed across her mind's eye. But what Lexa saw before her was not at all what she had anticipated. It wasn't Anya who stepped from the sea of green, but Echo.

Lexa recovered quickly, her frown dissolving into a mask of cool indifference.

"Shake hands," Nyko instructed to pair.

Lexa felt Echo bristle at the orders, but rules were rules. The Gryffindor captain reached out a steady hand, her strong, penetrating gaze demanding reciprocation. Echo gripped her hand tightly, squeezing painfully, but Lexa was ready and equaled her strength. She met Echo's sneer with her favorite condescending smirk. Still for all her indifference, Lexa couldn't keep the words inside as the Slytherin stand-in captain turned away.

"Where's Anya?"

Echo raised a single eyebrow, "That's not your concern anymore, is it?"

Lexa snarled softly, her teeth bared, and spun on her heel before Echo could have the satisfaction of walking away. As she stalked back to her team, the twin Bludgers and Golden Snitch were released from the crate. They zoomed away until they were no more than streaks against the bright sky and then disappeared entirely.

"Positions," Lexa barked before Professor Nyko could even give the order. Bellamy fell into place at her side and handed her a bat. On the whistle, both teams took to the sky.

"And they're off, ladies and gentlemen, professors, innocent bystanders, and, of course, Gryffindor trash," Murphy's slow drawl echoed across the field, totally deadpan as the pitch erupted like a swarm of hornets. "The first Quidditch match of the school year. The joy is palpable. Quidditch, my friends, the only acceptable way for us to take out our aggression on each other. This week's purge will begin in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…."

The whistle blew shrilly for the third time as the Quaffle was launched into the air and the pitch became chaos. Faster than a streak of lightning, the new Slytherin Chaser, Clarke, goddess of Bellamy's dreams snatched the Quaffle out of the madness. It was through the lower left hoop of the Gryffindor goal posts in a matter of seconds. Lexa's mouth went dry as admiration and rage coursed through her.

"Damnit, Roan," she shouted down the pitch at her Keeper who looked equally stunned.

"The first goal of the match scored by the magnanimous Clarke Griffin," Murphy stated levely. "Don't let it go to your head. Still gotta beat those fuckers - I mean suckers."

A breadth passed, then Gryffindor recovered as Miller drove the Quaffle down the pitch with Luna and Aden's help. Lexa hit a Bludger at Echo and smirked as the girl was forced to swerve away from Miller to dodge the deadly ball.

"Nice hit!" Bellamy pulled short next to her and blocked the other Bludger which was sent her way by one of the vindictive Snelle twins. He shot her a grin and a question, "Where's Anya?"

"I don't know," Lexa snapped, her eyes scanning the field rather than returning Bellamy's gaze.

"You two didn't…" His eyes widened as she finally threw him a dirty look. "You did? You broke up?"

"Not exactly," Lexa muttered. They flew in tandem around the pitch, simultaneously watching each other's backs as they dealt with the most dangerous balls of the game. Bellamy let out a whoop when Luna scored a goal for Gryffindor. Lexa hit a celebratory Bludger at the Slytherin Keeper for good measure. She chuckled darkly as Riley almost fell off his broom. The boy was a poor replacement for Anya.

"What do you mean 'not exactly?'" Bellamy asked.

"Seriously? You can't wait till-" Lexa thwacked a Bludger sending it flying at Ontari, "-after the game?" she finished.

"If you can't-" Bellamy blocked a Bludger from taking off Miller's head and sent it careening towards Echo instead, "-multitask, just say so!"

Lexa growled at him, "I said 'not exactly' because it was an accident… sort of."

"How do you accidently break up with someone?" Bellamy snorted.
"I said, 'I can't do this anymore.' I meant the conversation, but she thought I was talking about our relationship and I… I haven't corrected her yet."

"Did you want to break up with her?" There was no judgement in his tone, just a simple question. But it really wasn't simple at all.

"Yes. No… I don't know!" Lexa admitted and with a shout sent a stray Bludger away from Luna. "I can't do relationships… too many expectations. I don't- I can't…"

"If you never let anyone in, you'll never know."

Lexa glared at him. She bit her lip to keep from snapping back. He was one to talk about being guarded. This wasn't about him though. Lexa focused on her breathing to keep the memories from surfacing.

From behind clenched teeth she ground out the next words, "Letting someone in means being invested and that means getting hurt and I can't do that. Not anymore, not after-"

She shook her head, swallowing her own words. Lexa swung and her bat connected with the incoming Bludger. A small fissure raced down her bat as the dark sphere spun away from the pitch entirely. The impact reverberated down her arm and settled uncomfortably in her chest. The feeling seemed to crack open the floodgate to her memories and they poured out like a river of black blood, tainting what once had been beautiful. A girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. A year of belonging spoilt by one moment of weakness, one moment of pure, unadulterated happiness which was shattered in an instant.

It was the little things that Lexa remembered. The way her silk-like hair always seemed to fall out of those double braids no matter how many times she plaited them. The way her smile spread like sunshine across her face. The way she had said Lexa's name like a shared secret. That was how Lexa remembered her… Costia.

She couldn't recall the exact curve of her lips or the distance between her eyes, but Lexa did remember that they had been extraordinarily blue. So pale that they almost looked silver at times. Those eyes that sparkled in the sunlight when Lexa had kissed her… their first kiss, their only kiss.

The hot sun was nearly unbearable that summer; they hide from its sweltering heat inside the bunkhouse in Miriam and Bob's backyard, belly-laughing at the naughty book which lay between them, the one Costia had discovered in her mother's bedroom. Lexa had just turned ten; it had been the best birthday of her life.

Lexa read the strange words aloud in a hushed voice, her smile and intonation urged on by Costia's muffled giggles. She glanced over to see the pink flush of Costia's cheeks and her voice suddenly frozen in her throat, trapped inside her body. Something, a feeling, Lexa didn't quite understand stole over her as Costia leaned into her side, nudging her to continue.

Lexa meant to continue, but when Costia didn't pull away, the nearness of her was almost too distracting. She just stared at Lexa, their lips but a hair's breadth apart. A giggle escaped Costia and the sound was infectious, traveling into Lexa's own throat. Their eyes met, the air they breathed no longer separate. Then soft flesh - Costia's lips - met hers and the sweet taste of apple juice was all that Lexa knew.

Even six years later, Lexa remembered what happened next with biting clarity, but she could no more stop the images from dancing through her mind than she was able to prevent them from occurring in the past. Her hand reached out to brush gently against Costia's face. She felt the girl's cheeks spread in a wide smile beneath her warm palm, their lips still pressed together, neither sure of what was supposed to come next. Then, like lightning, Lexa was ripped away and all that sweet warmth fled. Her neck snapped back, her cheeks stinging from the impact of the blow.

Lexa had not been small; she was lanky for a ten year old, but still she curled into herself then against the second blow, smaller and smaller until she felt that she barely existed. Even though the next blow was not physical, it was painful nonetheless.

The quivering timbre of Miriam's voice was still seared as perfectly into Lexa's brain today as those hateful words. "Get away from my daughter, you disgusting child! Get out of my house. Get out! We trusted you. We trusted you!" Lexa hadn't known what was worse - the raging anger in her foster mother's voice or the moment when that anger had cracked and the woman started to cry. 'We trusted you,' she kept repeating, but Lexa didn't know what she had done. What had she done wrong?

It might have been hours, or just thirty minutes; the time passed slowly as she waited for the social services car to arrive, to take her back to the orphanage. She didn't remember exactly when Bob dumped her meager belongings next to the mailbox because she wasn't allowed back inside. Lexa only remembered the coldness of the pavement beneath her, the shrill sound of Miriam's favorite windchimes, and the silhouette of the girl in the upstairs' window to whom she never got the chance to say goodbye. One kiss… that was all it took. One kiss and Lexa found herself back where she had started… with nothing and no one.

The air seemed to have been sucked from the stadium. Lexa couldn't breathe, even when the onslaught of memories faded. She blinked her eyes against the wetness that threatened them and did a lap around the pitch trying to smooth out her twisted features. She hit a few Bludgers. Each one a cracking reminder of how she'd been hurt, of how she had hurt other people, of how she'd hurt Anya.

"She said she loves me," Lexa admitted to Bellamy when he caught back up to her. The words burned against her mouth. They had been swirling around in her head like a fever since she heard them uttered.

"Oh," Bellamy said, stunned, not because he was surprised, but because he knew what those words meant to her. "What did you say?"

Lexa closed her eyes, "I KNOW." Bile rose in her throat. Warmth seared her shoulder. A light squeeze. Fleeting. Reassuring. She knew without looking that Bellamy had brushed her arm briefly.

"Nothing I say is going to make you feel better. I know you too well to believe otherwise. Still… it's okay to be afraid. I just hope you don't let it keep you from living. Slay your demons, Lex," Bellamy said and she both hated and loved him for those words.

Lexa breathed deeply. She didn't want to live her life in fear. She didn't want to be a prisoner to it. That wasn't her. Maybe if she could just name it then it wouldn't haunt her anymore. Lexa hated failing, hated feeling lacking, hated not being perfect. She knew she was shit at emotions, at being open, being vulnerable. Lexa avoided those things at all cost, but she owed it to Anya, owed it to herself to try, to just try. She didn't want what happened with Costia to keep her from being happy. Happy. Lexa tasted the word on the tip of her tongue. It tasted faint, foreign, and uncomfortable… but truly sweet.

She opened her vivid eyes with a tight smile and spun on a dime. THWACK. Lexa sent the Bludger straight at the green-robed Slytherin holding the Quaffle, Clarke.

"Hey!" Bellamy slid up next to her, his face amusingly horrified at her last target.

"Oh please," Lexa shrugged. "You fight for your girl and I'll fight for mine."

"She's not my girl," Bellamy muttered and Lexa let out a laugh at his sour face. A shout went up from the other side of the pitch. Miller had been hit by a bludger from one of the Snelle twins. His lip was bleeding, but he still managed to keep a hold of his broom. Gryffindors didn't give up that easily. A feral grin split Lexa's face and she glanced over at Bellamy who returned her intensity.

"Blood must have blood," she murmured, her words like a prayer and dove.

From the stands Raven watched as Trikru sought out a Bludger and sent it with a deafening crack towards Ontari. A scream split the pitch and Ontari crumpled forward onto her broom. Fucking hell, Raven's eyes widened. That bitch is crazy.

"And once again Gryffindor gets into a pissing contest," Murphy droned. "Ridiculous, really. We all know that Gryffindor courage is compensating for something. Big talk. Small equipment."

"For the last time, Mr. Murphy, please stay on topic," Headmaster Jaha reprimanded from behind the box, his voice equally magnified.

"Absolutely, Professor… Gryffindor's have small dicks. Is that better?"

"Murphy."

"I only do this because you make me, Professor."

Raven rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the game. Clarke was heading straight towards the Gryffindor goal post with the Quaffle tucked under her arm. Raven admitted begrudgingly that the girl was good at flying. More than good, really. How fucking annoying.

"C'mon Slytherin!" Jasper hollered and pounded his fists against the railing. He threw his head back and crowed his enthusiasm.

Raven shot the traitor a dirty look. She felt Monty do the same beside her.

"Since when do you root for Slytherin?"

"Since I discovered the particular joy of watching Roan get creamed," Jasper returned sweetly.

"You're impossible, you know that?" Raven shook her head. Clarke shot. The crowd held its breath… Roan kicked the Quaffle dead center and sent it flying away.

"Woohoo! Yeah, Roan!" Raven cheered, clapping along with the surrounding crowd. She gave Jasper a pointed look. He was staring straight at her, his expression like she'd both kicked his favorite dog and told him that contrary to popular belief, girls really did take shits.

"What?" Raven challenged, her hands going instinctively to her hips.

Jasper scoffed, "You're unbelievable."

"Simmer down, children," Monty said and physically wedged himself between the two. "Plus, wasn't it just last year that you were saying how cool Roan's technique was, Jasper?"

Raven turned away to hide her smile. She didn't need to see Jasper's face to know that he was frowning.

"Why thank you, Monty," he said dryly. "Your timing as ever… is on point."

"I, for one," Raven drawled leaning over the railing with a smirk, "Don't know why you're so focused on Roan. I'm sure Octavia is missing your usual rapt attention."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jasper pressed his lips thin. Raven and Monty shared a look.

"Uh-huh."

"Let me know if I should be worried about competition for Roan, Jay." Raven bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Oh please," Jasper leaned his lanky frame against the railing facing her. "He couldn't handle all of this."

Raven snorted and shook her head. Echo was driving the Quaffle down the field. Then Luna had it. Clarke snatched it for a moment, but Aden stole it back and then beelined for the goal posts. The shot went a little wide and Riley eased it further away from the Slytherin goal posts with the end of his broom.

Murphy's voice crackled across the stadium, "You're going to have to be faster than that, Aden. Maybe you should have waited a year or two to join the team."

Raven rolled her eyes at Murphy's annoying commentary and turned to see if Jasper had made the same gesture. He was already looking at her.

"What?" she asked, curious about the strange look on his face - like he had realized he'd left something super important at the castle, or he really needed to throw up. Raven couldn't decide which seemed more appropriate.

"Nothing," he shrugged and turned steadfastly back to the action of the match. His cheeks were flushed. The wind was particularly chilly today and whipped against the stands in buffets. He had probably just realized he left one of his batches of hooch sitting for too long. Or forgotten to make it airtight… was that even a thing? Raven didn't know. Before she could go further down that rabbit hole, a shout drew her attention back to the match. Slytherin had scored another goal.

The wind was stronger than normal and it whipped Octavia's hair into her face with a vengeance. Her cheeks stung from the assault and she wished she had succumbed to a full braid instead of the half-back she had allowed Harper to do this morning. Her sage-green eyes scanned the field in long sweeps searching for her tiny target. Above. Around. Below. Above. Around. Below. Her gaze shifted as she flew in lazy loops above the other players.

It was moments like these when Octavia wondered how she ever had the patience to be a Seeker. Her stomach tightened against the pang of envy at the Chasers speeding around below. However, then she remembered the feeling of the dive, the hunt, the adrenaline of chasing and catching the Snitch that was infinitely more rewarding than any scored goal. She held the fate of the game in her hands, the beating lifeline of the Gryffindor team. She was a panther stalking her Slytherin prey, planning the perfect moment to strike - that golden kill shot with wings.

Octavia grinned and swung a tight loop towards the other end of the field. Emori seemed clueless. She trailed behind her like a scavenger vulture. Didn't the girl know by now that Octavia rarely left any scraps?

A groan surged from the crowd as Echo scored a goal putting Slytherin ahead by forty points. The players were getting antsy and Octavia could feel the heat of her captain's gaze - ready for the Seeker to finish it. From the way Gryffindor was flying, Octavia knew that there would be double practice next week.

The noise from the crowd drew her attention and Octavia noticed the presence of a certain Hufflepuff. Her eyes widened in surprise. What was he doing here? Lincoln had said he didn't like Quidditch. It was one of the few issues Octavia saw in their non-relationship relationship or whatever it was that they were to each other. Mentor and student? Friends? Was it possible that he was there to support her? From the corner of her eye, Octavia saw a flash of gold then green.

"It appears Emori has spotted the Snitch. Praise be. There is a god." Murphy's voice was relieved - the first emotion of the match.

"Damn it," Octavia cursed and swung into a sharp dive after Emori. She was on the Slytherin's tail in seconds, so close that the flap of green robes cracked near her face like a whip in the wind.

Octavia leaned forward then left and her shoulder made contact with Emori's ribs, forcing the opposing Seeker off her warpath. Now there was nothing in between Octavia and the Snitch; its feathery wings were buzzing so fast it looked like a floating golden sphere.

Emori came back with a vengeance and rammed into Octavia, hard.

The young Blake grunted and pushed back. The Snitch launched skyward and Octavia did an about face faster than Emori. She climbed steadily into the air… thirty feet above the pitch, fifty, a hundred. The low clouds shrouded the field from view, but Octavia didn't take her eyes off of the golden orb. Her arm stretched out. Her fingers reaching skywards. She could feel the beat of the wings against the pads of her fingers. Just a few more inches… but the Snitch had other plans. It fell like a stone and Octavia's fingers clamped around thin air.

She leaned into the ninety degree dive without hesitation, her right arm still before her, the Snitch only a few feet below.

The clouds parted - the ground, the pitch, the players were suddenly very close and, still speeding downwards, Octavia was quickly struck by a very bad idea… a very good, bad idea. Her eyes darted to the person below her, the person who would be her unlucky participant. Lexa.

Octavia crouched and her eyes met Lexa's, gauging the distance. Did she understand? Octavia didn't have time to communicate properly. It was now or never. Lexa's eyes widened as she realized what Octavia intended. The captain barely had time to shake her head once before Octavia launched herself off of her broom, straight towards the Snitch and Lexa.

With her right hand, Octavia scooped the golden sphere out of the air. With her left hand, she reached for Lexa as she plummeted. In a flash Lexa's left hand shot out and clasped her forearm, swinging Octavia onto the back of her broom even as she flew downward to compensate for the Seeker's momentum.

Octavia shouted in triumph and raised the Snitch high above her head. She felt Lexa's grip tighten as the older girl pulled Octavia's hand around her own waist to keep the Seeker upright. The roar from the crowd was deafening. Even the Slytherins seemed impressed and a few were openly clapping in shock.

A deep laugh ripped through Octavia's chest even as Lexa flew them to the ground and Murphy announced Gryffindor as the victor. The adrenaline pounding through her system was pure joy.

"You're fucking crazy, you know that?" Lexa shot over her shoulder, but her words were half-hearted and her hand was warm against Octavia's skin. The younger Blake just laughed again and held Lexa tighter as her heart beat furiously.

She let go of the older girl as soon as they touched down, only then, with space between them, was she aware of how firmly she'd been pressed against her captain.

Lexa cleared her throat as she turned to look at the Seeker. Octavia handed the subdued Snitch to Lexa like she was presenting a battle trophy.

The older girl smiled even as she shook her head, "Don't pull that shit again, okay? You're not invincible."

Octavia opened her mouth to argue, but the bellow of her name from across the pitch distracted her. Bellamy had landed and was stalking towards the pair, her abandoned broom clutched tightly in his hand. He looked like he'd just eaten his own heart.

"I got it," Lexa offered.

"Thanks," Octavia said, surprised. She smiled and turned, disappearing quickly into the crowd flooding onto the field. Her feet left the ground as she was lifted overhead and carried to the locker room. She looked around at the crowd beneath her, but didn't see Lincoln's face. It didn't matter. No one could take away the triumph she felt. Even if he had missed the coolest thing she would probably ever do in her life. No big deal.

The locker room was crowded, filled with more people than were actually part of the team. Too many people who couldn't wait to talk to their friends about the match. Even a few of the Slytherins seemed to have squeezed in.

A Ravenclaw that Octavia recognized from her year was bragging to Riley. Octavia tried not to listen, but she couldn't help it. Really. He was loud. Very loud.

"I'm telling you man," he smirked and leaned against the locker. "Now that Trikru's single, I'm going to show her a good time. Gonna rock her world."

Octavia grimaced as she watched him make a vulgar gesture, thrusting his hips out. Her fist clenched dangerously. She told herself to leave it be, but her feet had other plans, taking her to stand before the Ravenclaw. She crowded his space with a snarl.

"She's a lesbian, you dumbass," Octavia hissed, then stepped back and looked him up and down, "You couldn't rock her anything."

She forced a scathing laugh out before turning away and thankfully was immediately surrounded by friends. Her hands were shaking.

Raven, Monty, and Jasper all shouted her praises. Jasper even enacted her glorious catch in great detail. She laughed along with everyone else and tried to appreciate it all, but she was distracted. A crash sounded behind them and Octavia turned to see the same Ravenclaw douche from before sprawled out on the floor. Harper bit back a smile as she sidled up to the group, side-stepping the fallen boy. Octavia didn't miss the wand being stuffed surreptitiously into Harper's back pocket even as the Hufflepuff congratulated her on a good game. The Gryffindor smirked knowingly and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. She knew she should just let it go… but she couldn't. She was worried about Lexa.

When she saw her captain enter the locker room a few minutes later, Octavia excused herself and made a beeline for the Gryffindor.

"Hey," Octavia blurted then chewed on her lip as Lexa turned slowly. She didn't know what to do with her hands. They felt useless by her side.

"Hey?" Lexa gave her a strange look, a dismissive look.

Octavia ignored it, "You broke up with Anya." It wasn't a question.

Lexa glanced back towards the door of the locker room, then sighed, "It's none of your business, Octavia."

Octavia's hand shot out to stop Lexa even as she made to turn away.

"You didn't do it because- You didn't do it for-"

"I said it is none of your damn business." Lexa pulled away from Octavia. Her eyes, hard, glinting.

"What's going on?" a deep voice said beside them. Bellamy.

"Nothing," Octavia swallowed the bitter taste of her anger and shouldered past him.

"Octavia! O!" he called after her, but she was already out the door. She didn't feel like listening to one of his reprimands about danger. If it were up to him, she would never leave Gryffindor tower.

The fresh air greeted her like an old friend, soothing her slowly. She ran a hand through her hair taking it out of the half braid that was already falling apart. She considered going back in to meet up with Raven, Harper, and the boys, but instead she found her feet taking her back towards the castle.

"Hey."

Octavia stopped short as she rounded the corner and almost ran into Lincoln.

"Oh," she breathed out. She thought he had left. "Hi."

"Hi… you were great out there. Really something." His gaze was steady, but his hands were stuffed into his pockets. He shifted slightly and Octavia almost smiled. Was he shuffling his feet? He cleared his throat and she raised her eyebrows, her eyes never leaving his.

"Anyways," he continued and scratched the back of his neck, "I just wanted to find you to say that we should probably study tonight."

"Right," Octavia's smile fell.

"Yeah, you have a test tomorrow and you're not ready," he explained. As if she didn't remember the Potions exam.

"Can we go back to you complimenting me?" Octavia asked dryly.

"I being serious, Octavia."

"Thank you for the clarification," she said looking him dead in the eyes. "I never would have guessed."

A pause. Silence.

"I'll see you at eight then."

"Great, it's a date-" she coughed, blushing, "I mean, it's a non-date date, obviously… It's just a figure of speech."

Her cheeks were on fire, but Octavia forced her gaze back to him, only to see that he was already walking away.

"Damn it," Octavia muttered, pinching her eyes closed. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? Splendid. Non-date date? Smooth. Well, fuck me.

A/N: Did you like the Quidditch match? Thoughts? Feelings? I really hope that this chapter helps everyone understand why Lexa is so guarded and has trouble being vulnerable. None of these guys have had easy lives before coming to Hogwarts, but Lexa's is really rough for me to write about. Dealing with homophobia from people you trust, especially family, is so harmful and, unfortunately, a reality for a lot of us in the LGBT community. I hope that none of you lovely people have had such an extreme experience as Lexa has in this story. You are all perfect the way you are and no one has any right to tell you otherwise.

Thank you guys again for all the love you give this story! I hope the hiatus isn't too long. If you want to be notified when I start posting chapters again you can either follow this story or follow me on Tumblr. Whatever is easier for you! Until next time Xx